How I Am
Iím the type who opens the grass
looking for the red dirt I bathe in. Who is my lover?
I love only the taste of things, the feel
of a body beneath my mouth. To another plane I send
the greenest apples and that jelly
of a flower dying into fruitólove
dies into me. What are seeds? Cages
with windows. Iím between the atoms
of the stars.